


Other Strangers

by absoluteMastard



Category: Coraline (2009), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (no gorey details), Crossover, Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, at the core of her fear its all about her menacing unfamiliarity, cane-user jon, coraline is like 22 in this, coraline says fuck cops, crossover statement, graphic description of a face getting beaten in, it just fits best aside from her spider imagery in the movie, season 3 plot divergence, the Other Mother is stranger aligned, vague description of eye trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absoluteMastard/pseuds/absoluteMastard
Summary: "Officer" Max Musterman attempts to capture Jon at an earlier point in time, and instead of two hunters, someone else who has experience with Strangers comes to his aid.
Comments: 59
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can never get enough of crossovers and Coraline is just such a perfect fit for the horror structure of Magnus Archives! I was actually going to rewrite the entire plot of Coraline into a statement but I thought the better of it after my brain started to melt about halfway through.

The evening air was still, making the heat more uncomfortable with the lack of a soothing breeze. It only made Jon’s head swim more as he walked back to his hotel room. The information he was able to get from the hospital and the police station provided interesting details to the story he was chasing, but ultimately seemed to be leading to a dead end. Gerard Keay was dead after all, according to the nurses who remember that night. Whatever Gertrude did afterward is up in the air, still. His last opportunity to find out anything could be in Washington, D.C., but for the moment, Jon was finding that remembering his way back to his room and putting one foot in front of the other was taking all his energy. Even the cane in his left hand began to drag somewhat. He didn’t know what was coming over him, but the longer it went on, the less likely it seemed to be jet lag.

“’Scuse me, sir. Stop right there.” A voice said from behind him. Jon flinched in surprise, not even hearing someone approach. “Hands where I can see them.”

Just as he turned enough to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face, his heart sped up in alarm. “ _Shit._ ” Jon muttered. He’d seen the face of that cop twice before now, and him being this close now meant nothing good. Worse yet, it was dusk, and this part of town was relatively quiet, nobody else was out on the street to see what was about to happen next.

Jon stumbled forward in hopes to break into a run, but he was already too close. The officer wrenched him over by his arm and shoved him face-first into the brick wall next to them, his cane falling out of his grip and clattering to the pavement. Jon cried out in pain as his arm was twisted behind him, limiting his ability to thrash against the cop as he leaned closer to him.

“Got you now, Archivist…” He sneered, laughing to himself. “Nikola did say this would be too easy.” His weight on him seemed to shift as he reached for something, and Jon began to writhe more as he heard what sounded like handcuffs be taken out. No way in hell was this happening again.

And as if some merciful god was looking down on him, something else happened instead. With some heavy force behind it, the cop’s knee folded in like it was kicked, and he nearly crumpled over before catching himself. It gave Jon just enough room to scramble the opposite way and turn to see the sturdy wood handle of his own cane connect brutally to the cop’s left eye. That made him jump again, if not for the solid wall behind him, he probably would have fallen over in shock. His eyes drifted over to the newcomer; it was hard to see well in the fading evening light, as well as it was hard to get a good look while she swung the cane down, _hard_ , three more times. She was in her early twenties at most, and her dark blue hair was cut into a sharp bob. She withdrew the cane, as if admiring the mashed-in pulp of the man’s face on the ground, then reared back and kicked him as hard as she could with a heavy booted foot.

Jon was stunned, looking down at the gore-covered police officer, now lying still on the pavement. On his blood-flecked uniform, he spotted the name ‘Musterman’. Well, that was one mystery he didn’t expect to solve today. He looked back to the girl, who was panting in the effort. She looked to Jon, and suddenly he felt incredibly small.

“Are you done gawking?! It’s time to go!” She snapped at him, shoving his cane back into his hand and pulling him along to run off. With one last glance to Max Musterman, Jon looked forward and put his adrenaline rush to good work, matching the speed of the woman as they ran down the street and turned the corner.

At the end of the block, she fished out a set of keys, and the lights of a beat-up looking Beetle flashed from its parking spot on the side of the street. She beckoned him over and he stepped into the passenger seat, hands trembling as he buckled in. She seemed panicked as well, but put an effort into driving away at a reasonable speed as to not draw attention.

Speaking of attention, it was about this moment that Jon looked down at his hands clutching the bloody handle of his cane. “I—what… what just happened?” He asked, dazed.

“I saved your life, that’s what.” She said, her gaze fixed forward. “Before you start freaking out, don’t worry, that thing back there wasn’t human.”

“No, I… I was sure of that. He’d been following me for a few days, now. How did you know..?”

The stranger gave a vague shrug. “I just know. I get this sick feeling when I see them, and then I notice the wrong bits of them when I have a closer look. It’s usually the eyes.” She paused, looking somewhat puzzled. Jon suspected it was from his question, but something else lit up in her face as she looked back at him. “You know about the Other People too!”

Jon stared back, somewhat doe-eyed. Her terminology wasn’t one he heard yet, but they were undoubtedly referring to the same group of creatures. He nodded carefully. “Yes—yes. I do. Now, who exactly are you...?”

“I’m Coraline. Coraline Jones.” She said, looking forward again. “I have some questions for you. We can lay low at my place for tonight.”

\--

‘ _Does this count as another kidnapping?_ ’ Jon thought to himself, watching the unfamiliar street signs carefully whenever Coraline took a turn. The situation felt eerily similar to the one he was in with Daisy just a few months ago, when she attempted to murder him. This one seemed different, though. While Jon was still very much on edge, this strange girl didn’t come off as threatening despite bashing a face in only fifteen minutes ago. Enough people out there have been wanting to kill him, and they all had the same look in their eyes that she didn’t have.

“I’m taking a long detour home, but we’re almost there.” Coraline said. Jon looked over a second later, barely registering what she meant in his trance. “He’s probably not dead, but he didn’t get a good look at me, or see my car. Just in case, though, you know?”

“Oh… yes. That’s a good plan.” He said, nodding along. “Thank you, I… don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there.”

“Don’t mention it. It was your lucky day, I just happened to be sitting in my car when that thing passed by. When I realized he was following you, I had to do something.” She explained. Jon looked down to her hands on the wheel, and could see her fingers trembling. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes. Jonathan Sims. Jon is fine.” He replied, looking forward. She had begun to slow down, turning the car into a driveway somewhat hidden by the willow tree above it, and turning the key.

“Here we go. Let’s get inside, my door’s around back.” She said, opening her door and coming around. Jon followed suit, stepping out and then suddenly gripping his door to keep his balance. “Shoot—you okay? Are you hurt?”

Jon took a breath in, willing the disorientation pass. “No, I… I’m just a bit dizzy. I’ll be fine once we’re inside.” He muttered, closing the door and leaning heavily onto his cane. Musterman only roughed him up a little, but every joint ached after that and the running he did. Whatever illness he was dealing with on top of that wasn’t helping things.

She stepped back, turning to open the back gate and let him through, then lock it again behind them. She led him down cement steps, and unlocked the door to let them both inside. The cool air of the basement was something of a relief as Jon stepped in. As she turned the lights on, Jon saw a cluttered space, with potted plants and books scattered on almost every surface. On the coffee table in front of the sofa, various loose papers and thick textbooks took up most of the surface.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess. Finals are around the corner.” She said, kicking her boots off. Jon barely registered the mess as an issue at all; if anything, it was a healthy dose of nostalgia of what it once felt like to be a normal person. “There’s a bathroom around that corner if you want to clean off your walking stick.”

“Thank you, Coraline.” Jon said to her, slipping his shoes off. She started to chuckle, and he looked to her curiously.

“Oh— it’s nothing.” She waved him off. “Nobody gets my name right the first time.”

He nodded, smiling. “I’ll uh—be right back.” Jon said, following her vague directions from before and closing the door behind him. 

He set to work washing the now-sticky mess of the lacquered solid wood handle, and cleaning off his hands at the same time. He’d gotten the cane from Georgie—her gift to him once he got his own flat again after his recent stay with her. She could easily tell that moving and walking for long periods was painful for him, the small circular scars along his body had gone quite deep, resulting in nerve damage in some areas. His mobility discomfort only intensified after being held captive for nearly a month in the clutches of The Circus. While his skin had never been better, being tied up for most of that time had caused further damage that noticeably affected his walking. The pain was dull on the good days, but it was constant, which was enough to wear him down. He was apprehensive of the idea of using it and how he may be perceived as vulnerable for needing it, but he was convinced to accept the gift when Georgie suggested that it would be a handy self-defense tool as well. He started keeping it around for that reason at first, but not long after he found himself glad to have it around to help him, and prevent him from being completely sore and exhausted by the time he clocked out at work.

He examined the rest of his cane, and made sure his clothes were okay before exiting again, looking sheepishly over to Coraline who was cleaning off her own hands in the kitchen. She filled two glasses with cold water after, placing them on the coffee table in the living room and taking a seat on a beanbag chair pulled up close. She gestured to Jon to sit, and he sat at the sofa across from her.

“Sorry for swinging that at him. I was trying to act quick.” Coraline said, eyeing his cane leaning next to him.

“Oh—no, don’t be. It’s half the reason I have it, actually.” Jon started, “It helps me move better, save energy, and it’s, uh, sturdy enough to do what you just did back there.”

“Multi-functional. Pretty smart.” She said. “So, I’m guessing you’re not from town?” She asked, grabbing her glass and sipping at it, then spoke again in a rather bad attempt at a British accent, “Across the pond?”

Jon gave a weak laugh, nodding. “Yes. I’m from London.”

“Well, welcome to Pittsburgh. It’s normally way more boring. What brings you out this way?”

“I, um. I’m here for work. Investigating. For the Magnus Institute.” Jon explained vacantly. It clearly wasn’t enough, because Coraline only leaned forward with an inquisitive look. He took a drink of water, hoping to clear his head before elaborating. “We study the esoteric and the supernatural, collect artifacts, take statements of personal experiences. I’m the new archivist, and… I’m trying to follow up on whatever my predecessor left for me. It taken me to some strange places.”

Her eyes were lighting up with interest by that point. “That’s— that’s a lot of wild concepts at once. And it has to do with the Others?” Coraline asked.

“Yes. I’ve heard of them being called the Stranger, or the Circus, as well.” Jon said. At the word _circus_ , he saw something in her recoil. “You said you can recognize them?”

“Yeah, since I was a kid. After meeting the first one, the rest all stood out to me. I’ve never seen one just try to jump someone on the street like that, though. They’re usually… sneakier.” She explained. Jon felt a pang of sympathy. He knew firsthand how a childhood experience with unfathomable horrors could shape someone. His few recent encounters with the Stranger specifically left him scarred in more ways than physical. “I’ll take a guess and say you’re doing a little more than studying them, if they’re out to get you like that.” She said, raising her eyebrow.

 _’She really doesn’t miss a beat.’_ Jon thought to himself. If the Institute hadn’t been revealed to be something just as dark and evil, he’d be bold to say that she’d do well there as an assistant. Even thinking it felt wrong; nobody deserved to be trapped there. “I’m…” He started, trying to articulate how exactly to say it. “Well, I suppose I’m trying to save the world.”

She had nothing to say to that. She frowned for half a second, as if she thought it was some bad joke, then as she saw how serious he looked, her jaw fell slightly.

“The Stranger is planning some sort of ritual—a dance—to remake the world. I was hoping to find answers over here about what exactly it is, and how to stop it, but my only lead was a man who has been dead for a few years now.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m supposed to catch a Greyhound to DC tomorrow, for one more place to follow up on before flying back to London, but that won’t matter if they catch me and skin me first.”

Recovering from the initial shock, Coraline mustered up the ability to speak again. “Well, we should be safe here tonight. You can have the couch, and I’ll give you a lift tomorrow and see you off. I’ll make sure no Others get on the bus with you.”

He looked at her, shocked from the offer. “I, well… I-I’d be grateful for that.” He stuttered out. “I can pay you for your trouble, of course. I don’t want to put you in danger like this for free.”

“Meh,” She waved him off. “Just save the world, like you said you would, and I’ll call it even.”

“…Thank you.” He said, still dumbfounded by her kindness. Part of him still wondered if there was a catch to this, and that thought would probably have him sleeping light tonight regardless of how his paranoia was disproven. Another sudden idea popped into his head, and he was suddenly aware of the messenger bag still slung over his shoulder. He had a tape recorder on hand, in case the hospital staff had a statement for him. Ended up not being the case, but…

“I… mentioned before that we take statements. I don’t suppose you would be interested in telling me your experiences? I could try and follow up and find out more from it.” Jon asked, careful of how he was phrasing his question. Just in case, he added on, “Only if you want. I understand if you wouldn’t want to share it.”

Coraline pondered his request for a moment, before shrugging. “Sure. Might be kinda nice to tell someone and have them believe me.” She said. Jon couldn’t quite place why he felt such strong relief at her answer, but he promptly dug into his bag and produced the tape recorder, placing it on the coffee table between them. She gave the look that _everyone_ does with it, before looking back to him for instruction.

Jon noticed that his fingers had stopped trembling as he reached to hit the play button. Perhaps the return of some familiar routine had settled him. He cleared his throat.

“Statement of Coraline Jones, regarding her encounters with The Stranger. Statement taken directly from subject, June 27th, 2017. Statement begins—whenever you’re ready.”

She gave him an anxious glance, but shook it off after a moment and began.

“That name you have for them is funny, y’know? ‘The Stranger.’ They always pretend to be someone familiar, in my experience. But it’s the second you realize that they aren’t—that you’re with something dangerous—that’s when they get you. When I was eleven, we made a big move out to Ashland, Oregon. We were renting the largest section of the Pink Palace...”

\--

“…I never killed her. Unless she can starve to death or something, she still lives in that house. All it could take is for someone to fish out a weird key from a hidden well, and fall into the same trap that I did. Maybe demolishing the house would do it, but who knows. I thought about burning the house down a few times as a teenager. I could’ve waited for everyone to be out of the house and make up some freak accident, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to seriously plan it. The fact that the house was there was my own personal proof that what happened to me was real. Plus, on the off-chance that destroying the house would release her, I decided it was better to leave it.

“When I was sixteen, my parents were in a position to buy their own house, and we moved out. I had a tough time leaving, it’s hard to move past something like that, but it was much better for me. Gave me room to get away from it and actually process what happened there; as well as I could without professional help, anyway. I could talk to Wybie about it, since he was the only one who believed me, but I didn’t expect him to help me sort out my trauma. For the first three years after moving out, though, I would get these panic attacks and call him, sometimes in tears, begging him to check the door and make sure it was still closed. He did it every time, even a few times in the middle of the night for me. He’s a good guy.

“I still get them sometimes, but I manage better than those days. When I do run into Others, I still always call Wybie to check the door. Obviously, they come from more places than an old house in Oregon. I’ve seen three since then, not including the one today. Two were just walking down the street in New York when I spent a long weekend there, and another was a student at my College once here in Pittsburgh, sitting in the cafeteria. I only ever saw him once, thankfully, and then never again. None of them seemed to realize that I knew, and since they weren’t actively doing anything bad, all I could do was watch carefully and stay off their radar. At least after today, I know I can do some damage to them if I have to fight one.”

Coraline blinked a few times, breathing a bit heavier after speaking for so long, then looked to Jon. “That’s the whole thing. Is… that okay?”

“Oh? Oh—yes. Thank you.” Jon snapped out of his trance, then picked up the recorder, “Statement Ends.” He said into it, before turning it off.

“I didn’t think I remembered it all with that much detail.” She said to herself, shivering. “Sorry if I got a little too personal near the end. Not sure what came over me.”

“It’s alright, it… tends to have that effect.” Jon said, packing the device back into his bag and putting it at his feet. “Thank you.”

Coraline was giving him another hard look. He knew what suspicion looked like. “There are more things out there aside from Others, aren’t there?”

“I…” He looked down, unsure of how to answer. He was only barely grasping it all himself, with no help from Elias, of course. “Yes, there are.”

“Have you seen them?”

“A few, yes.”

"I guessed as much, from all the scars." She noted. She was chewing at her lip, like she was trying to figure out what kind of questions to ask next. “Are you one of them?”

Jon froze, and he felt a twinge of shame knowing that if he said no, he’d be lying. He didn’t know what her reaction could be, but he owed her the truth, after everything she’d done for him today. “I… I think I might be. Is that a problem?” He asked, quieter than before, prepared to leave the moment she ordered him out. Especially on the half-second afterward, when he realized he unintentionally compelled her in his question.

“No.” She answered, too quick to be natural. She seemed to notice it, too. She shrugged. “I knew something was off with you, but I don’t think you’ve been lying about anything. I wouldn’t have escaped from the Other Mother if it wasn’t for the Other Dad and Wybie helping me, so I know there’s… some gray area in all this monster business. I’ll still help you get on that bus tomorrow.”

“…Thank you.” Jon said, breathing out in relief.

“Don’t mention it.” She said, smiling, then stood up from her cushion. “It’s getting late, I think I’m gonna crash out. I’ll grab you some blankets for the couch. What time does your bus leave?”

“Oh, 11 a.m.” He said, slowly standing as well. “I’ll need to go back to my hotel first, to get my bags…”

“No problem. We’ll leave a few hours before, then.” Coraline nodded.

Jon mustered a small smile, gratitude clear on his face. “Thank you.” He said again.

\--

The next morning was thankfully calm. It was great, even. For the first time since he got to America, he felt well rested. His disorientation was gone, and aside from some lingering soreness from overdoing it yesterday, he felt refreshed.

The fact that he felt better the night after getting a statement from someone put a bad feeling in his gut, though. His suspicion was confirmed when he picked up a package while checking out of his hotel. Apparently, Elias had mailed him a statement. It included a note, “ _To tide you over._ ” it said. Obviously he hadn’t forseen Coraline coming into his path to help him with that issue before getting the document, and also didn’t bother to inform Jon of this complication. Figures.

They pulled up on the street just outside the bus station, and the two walked in together, waiting at the bay as Jon’s departure time drew near. The cop wasn’t seen, but Jon doubted it would be the last time he saw him, but being on a bus with several others around could provide safety, especially if Coraline could confirm that no Strangers were on the bus with him.

“I can’t say how much I appreciate this,” Jon said, “Thank you, again.”

Coraline smiled at him. “Happy to help.” She said. “Hey, maybe I’ll travel to London when I’m done school, if the world doesn’t end. Maybe I'll check out this Magnus Institute you work at. Must be some interesting things there.”

“Oh, there is.” Jon agreed, though his tone was laced with concern. “I’d… recommend against ever going there, though. It’s dangerous.”

“Fair enough.” She said after a beat. “Are they not all as friendly as you?”

Being called ‘friendly’ was a surprise, he almost laughed at that. But at the thought of Elias and his recent schemes and new-hires, his expression remained sober. “It’s just the Head of the Institute I worry about. I don’t want to risk him trapping you there, too.” He explained. “But maybe if we’re all in luck, we’ll have dealt with him by then.”

Concern flashed across Coraline’s face, but she didn’t have time to reply over the announcement for the next departure.

“That’s me.” Jon said, adjusting his shoulder bag and gripping his suitcase in his left hand, and his cane on the right, leaning onto it. “Thank you, again, Coraline. Take care.”

She nodded. “You do the same, okay?”

He smiled, then slowly stepped forward, handing his suitcase to a worker to store for him, and stepped up into the bus. He made eye contact with her again as he found his seat, and she turned to leave only once the bus doors closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Coraline's chance meeting with the Archivist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't quite expect to add onto this story but I had a ton of fun coming back to this whole concept! Enjoy!
> 
> (This chapter contains various season 4 spoilers right up to that season finale btw)

It didn’t take long for the dreams to roll in.

Coraline chalked it up to her old panic triggers being set off. She had come a long way in her recovery, but fighting an Other for the first time in over ten years was bound to make her backslide somewhat. On top of retelling her entire experience in gruesome detail, it just made sense that the nightmares would be intense for a while again. She texted Wybie after seeing Jon off, just in case. He sent her a picture of the little door, still closed.

She never saw the cop afterward; nothing was ever reported on the news about any violence, either. She decided that was a good thing, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. She assumed that the fake officer would probably be trying to catch up to Jon (hopefully he escaped before that point), but Coraline still made a point to take random and convoluted routes home each day, often doubling the time it would take normally to make it home. It didn’t hurt to be careful, she told herself.

Extra paranoia was a normal response after what happened. It would be rough, but it would pass.

After four weeks straight of the same nightmare, she had a feeling that this wasn’t as simple anymore. Despite being lucid enough to recognize the nightmare each time, she was always trapped in it, and the terror never lessened. She’d find what _wasn’t_ her mother standing in the parlour, body stretched out too thin, with more joints than she should have. She’d watch patiently from the center of the room, the light of the fireplace reflecting off of the sewing needle held up in her bony hand. The rats would hop about at Coraline’s feet, making her stumble just enough to land in a chair, into the grasp of a dozen peculiar hands. The chair would tip back slowly once the hands stopped her from flailing, and the Other Mother would only bring the needle to her face once Coraline was hoarse from screaming.

 _”You know I love you, darling.”_ She would coo gently, grinning with too many teeth. _”Now, you can stay with me forever.”_

Coraline would never feel anything when the needle plunged into her eye ( _so sharp you won’t feel a thing_ ), but she did feel how her entire sense of self unraveled when she would gaze at her new face in the mirror after the Other Mother was finished. Only then would she wake in a cold sweat.

The odd figure in the background took some time to notice. At first, it was in the hallway; barely worth thinking about compared to the horror in the parlour. Then, it began to draw closer in each dream. Coraline would spot it looking in through the window, or standing in the corner, or sitting on the sofa. Sometimes it would even lean over her, right next to the Other Mother, watching closely as to not miss a single detail. She recognized him once he was close enough for her to see more than his bright, piercing eyes.

She wondered if Jon knew this was happening at all. She shouted at him often, usually not getting much more than a head tilt or incomprehensible mumbles from him. She even tried to swing at him, but he was always just too far to reach. It was clear that he was just there to watch.

Coraline knew the situation was complicated. In her brief time meeting Jon, the best she had gathered was that he seemed unsure of his own nature, and he was caught in a different kind of trap. Big things were happening elsewhere in the world, and she couldn’t help but feel that her affliction was just collateral damage. As best as she could recall, she willingly gave her story to him. Some force in the room had seemingly pulled all the finest details into her memory, and Jon’s stare had gotten intense as he listened to her. It had been like he was reliving the entire event with her as she spoke. Had he known he was condemning her to this?

She decided that he probably didn’t, but her bitterness from seeing him each night still crept in. It felt like the fear and the misery wasn’t even hers anymore. She was just the channel for the terror to flow through, so he could drink in the experience every night like a movie played over and over.

She had thankfully already graduated college by the time the dreams started to become grating, and she decided on taking time off before finding a job. If reality was in jeopardy like he said, maybe she should enjoy things in case it all went to hell. That, and she couldn’t risk having a nervous breakdown in the midst of a new career. She planned on sorting out how to handle her new situation before that point.

Things seemed different once she noticed he was consistently dressed in a hospital gown. He had a deathlike pallor to him, unkempt facial hair was growing in steadily, and he had new scars and skin half-peeling in places from angry burns. Something catastrophic had happened, obviously. She wondered if it was about saving the world. Everything was still here, which was a good sign.

He seemed more defined in the dreams after that point. She redoubled her efforts in calling out and trying to reach him. Her dreams always ended with the buttons being fixed over her eyes, but just once she managed to catch his vacant mumbling.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stop watching.”

\--

Over a year later, Coraline still had the dreams every night. She could never become fully numb to the terror it brought her, but she did learn to hate sleep.

She was tempted to book a flight to London and find the Magnus Institute when she noticed Jon in regular clothes again, only stopping when she reminded herself that the need to know what happened with him probably wasn’t worth it. His presence was more active afterward; he sometimes paced about to ravenously consume the scene before him at every angle. The strangest time was the two weeks where he looked to be caked in mud, and seemingly was fused with the walls or the floorboards of her dream, not moving aside from short, panicked gasps. Later on down the road, she could hear more quiet apologies from him. Past the increasingly oppressive force of his stare, she could catch remorse on his face.

When The Change happened, she was at her parents’ house on a visit. Coraline figured that it must have involved what Jonathan Sims was talking about. Knowing, however, brought no comfort as she scrambled over to lock her door as the shadow of someone’s feet appeared outside of her room.

“Coraline, it’s us! Are you okay?!” A voice that _could_ be her mother called out. The doorknob started to jiggle as Coraline moved her desk in front of the door and backed away from it, hands shaking. What was a clear morning sky moments ago was now transformed into something unimaginable.

“Coraline, open the door! Something’s happening!” The voice called out, more desperately this time. Coraline sat on the floor, paralyzed as she watched the door in terror. Which mother was on the other side of that door? She couldn’t know for sure. All she knew was to be afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Season 5! This is supposed to take place just after episode 166.

She eventually lost track of the passage of time. That fact didn’t seem to matter, since it looked like reality had much more pressing things for her to worry about. For example, whoever was still wailing from the other side of her bedroom door.

Coraline spent her uncounted time against the wall opposite to the door. She was trapped in an infuriating dilemma: if she opens the door and sees the Other Mother, then it’s all over. But, if her real mother is behind the door and Coraline remains too doubtful to open it, then she’s condemning her to death, or whatever worse things the world has to offer now. The self-doubt, guilt, and all-consuming terror of uncertainty froze her to the spot.

She tried to tell herself that her gut feeling still worked; she was never wrong before when she felt the deep instinctual fear from a Stranger being close by, so it must be the Beldam. That same fear was increased tenfold, though, congesting her mind like a viscous liquid and driving her to inaction as she fueled her own endless cycle of a nightmare. It was a much more powerful feeling than any time before, and she took that as a sign that it wasn’t just her instinct, but rather something about the new reality she had found herself in. She really had nothing she could trust.

After what felt like an eternity, Coraline pulled herself off the floor to look out the window. If you squinted, it still seemed like the street that her parents lived on. But it was all just… wrong, somehow. Her eyes eventually crept toward the looming structure in the distance, towering above everything else. That, was most definitely extra wrong, existing where no building or tower ever was seen before. The halo of bulbous eyes surrounding the top solidified her case.

As if feeling watched while dreaming wasn’t enough, it seemed that the world decided to make it a 24/7 deal now.

Her mind wandered back to Jonathan Sims. He was the only one she knew with a connection to whatever other terrors lurked in the world, and at the time she didn’t ask much, which she was regretting now. She hadn’t properly slept since the change, and therefore had no contact with his odd spectre that always appeared—not that he ever appeared able to say much anyway in that state. She wondered how much of that tower could have to do with him. As much as she wanted to recoil from the unblinking stares coming from the tower, she also knew it as a familiarity, where everything else seemed lost to her.

She was setting herself up to be hiding in her room forever, endlessly conflicted over who could be behind the door. Maybe it would just be easiest if she didn’t play into it anymore. There were other things to be scared of, and while none were probably any more favorable, a change of scenery could do her some good.

Coraline almost felt nostalgia as she rummaged around her bedroom for what meagre supplies could pass as survival tools. The best she could gather was a couple sets of clothes, a half-empty water bottle, an old pocket knife (conveniently already located in her jacket pocket), and the pair of running shoes still buried in her suitcase in the corner—thankfully she had forgotten them in there instead of bringing them to the front door.

When she had everything rolled up and shoved into her backpack, shoes tied, and jacket zipped up, she took another look at the door. The shadow was still below, and the handle still jiggled periodically as whoever was behind it begged Coraline to open the door. By all means, it should have become repetitive after so long, but she still felt her heart pick up its rhythm as she tuned in to the frantic voice.

 _’Oh god. Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry.’_ She thought to herself, too worried to say it aloud in case the wrong person heard it. _’I don’t think I can save you this time.’_ Her throat tightened in the shame of admitting that. She was smarter and stronger now compared to her time at the Pink Palace, but she had a lot more to be scared of now. There was no little door to crawl through and escape back to normalcy, no rules or games to keep her safe this time around.

It was almost painful trying to tear her eyes away from the door, but she knew if she didn’t leave now, she probably never would. This room would happily accommodate her, and have her eternally sit through the nightmare tailored just for her, if she let it.

Instead, she slid the window open as quietly as she could, using her knife to cut away at the mesh screen. It was an easy five-foot drop to the grass, and she wasted no time as she dashed through what once was a quiet residential street in Oregon.

\--

It became clear soon enough that the land had changed more than she realized. Coraline recognized some areas in the same manner that one could recognize an animal from the remaining skeleton. In other spots, there were completely new things—landscapes and structures that couldn’t possibly have existed before. A skyscraper—not as grand or foreboding as that weird watchtower –pierced through roiling storm clouds, ascending further than she could see. She did see the people falling from it, their distant figures a mere speck in comparison to their surroundings. It felt like a trick on her eyes, but they never seemed to reach the ground. Elsewhere, she walked past swathes of burning houses and forests. The houses never seemed to fully collapse or run out of material to burn as she observed them, as well as the voices from inside didn’t seem to run out of oxygen to cry out with. She made an effort to avoid the worst of the environment around her as she pursued the watchtower in the distance. If she could see it, she could reach it, she told herself.

She stopped for rest eventually, not because she had gotten tired but because she felt that she should be. The buildings and forests thinned out to an expanse of flatter grassland, looking to stretch out for some time. Being so out in the open had Coraline worried, but she reminded herself that it seemed like she wasn’t going to be any safer elsewhere. She looked out carefully around her before sitting down in the grass, facing the tower up ahead that hadn’t seemed to come any closer so far. The eyes clustered around it in the sky twitched sporadically as they regarded their surroundings with a cold, oppressive stare.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap,_

When she noticed one of the eyes fixated on her, was when Coraline’s ears picked up the sound. She spun around, rising to a crouch but keeping her head low as she searched for the source of the noise. Nothing was in sight, but the tapping continued, sounding far off, and yet the fact that she could hear it at all meant it was too close. As she frantically looked around, she strained herself trying to remember what it reminded her of. Only once it got louder, did she remember the sound of manicured nails tapping against a button, and decided it was time to leave. She set a quick pace, trying her best not to make noise as she walked. The tapping slowly faded after a few minutes, and with sweat creeping down her neck, Coraline turned to look again, and immediately regretted it.

In the dim light, only the silhouette could be made out, but she knew the slender shape of _her,_ instantly. She was far off, but her form was clearly visible where it rose out of the tall grass around her. Coraline instantly wished she was anywhere but an open field, where she was far too exposed. She sped up, breath caught in her throat as she tried to focus her thoughts on moving forward instead of how she felt like a prey animal being stalked.

Over the expanse of an hour, Coraline stole several glances behind her and spotted the Other Mother’s form each time without fail. She followed, but remained about the same distance behind her. Each time she looked; she dreaded the possibility that she’d find her within arms’ reach. She had her knife gripped tight in one hand in case she did come that close. Back at the Pink Palace, she made it very clear how she enjoyed a good game, but this casual pursuit was bound to get tiring for even her. Coraline still felt no physical fatigue, but mentally she was wearing thin. The Beldam clearly wasn’t bound to the old house anymore, and could probably keep up the chase for as long as it took. Knowing her, she was dead-set on having Coraline back in her grasp. How long would it be before she dropped the charade and pounced?

Would it happen like it would in the dreams? No, that would be too predictable. _Knowing_ how it she would do it would be a mercy that she wouldn’t allow.

“You remember the rules, Coraline.” She called out from a distance, making Coraline shiver violently. “You made a deal.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she continued forward. She was right; that night she had lost their little game—not that she was meant to win at all. She only managed to escape using her quick wits, a cat, and a well-aimed throw.

“I’ll still let you pick a colour, if you like.” The Beldam continued. “How about Navy, to match your hair? Of course, I can change that for you as well. We can change everything up; no need to stop at the eyes.”

Coraline kept silent, fidgeting the knife about in her sweaty palm, trying not to think too hard about the implications of what she was saying. Unfortunately, it seemed the Other Mother was excited to elaborate. “You know I’m quite the artist. Once I’m done with you, you won’t even recognize yourself!”

\--

Coraline was wrong about assuming she’d get tired of the chase. She seemed happy to taunt from afar. Was she hoping Coraline would stop and accept her fate, or was she waiting for her to finally break into a run to make it a real game of cat and mouse? Her endless patience implied that there was a futility to the situation. That thought was slowly devouring Coraline as she went back to debating between impossible-to-win decisions. The watchtower in the distance had become an afterthought to the pressing matter at hand, her focus all on keeping the rhythm of her steps to maintain her distance from the Beldam.

Her doubts began to crawl in as the scenery changed to a dark forest after an eternity of walking, and yet her situation remained the same. Perhaps it truly was better to give in to it. In some awful, twisted way, the Other Mother _did_ love her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, to relinquish her whole sense of self. Could that loss still be felt once she had forgotten what it was like to have it in the first place? If she went to her willingly, maybe the Other Mother could make it so. The world had dramatically changed, maybe it was time that she did as well, if she wanted to survive.

Or maybe at the very least, she could go down kicking and screaming. What had the Other Mother ever done to deserve an easy victory? Coraline knew she had very little chance of being able to stand up to her, but with the knife, she could at least hurt her. Even if all it brought was satisfaction, the defiance would be worth it.

Coraline spotted the door up ahead, and took it as an invitation to end the game. It wasn’t small like the parlor door; perhaps it was meant to be the front door of the Pink Palace. It stood up on its own, not attached to anything, but she knew by now that things didn’t need to make sense anymore. She hadn’t remembered the front door being yellow, but what were her memories worth? She was _tired_ , and stepping across that threshold would be easy. The little black doorknob was cold in her palm as she turned it, and let the door creak open. Within, the dark corridor seemed to beckon her. Perhaps at the end of the hall, she’d find herself in the old house again; a fitting place to end it all.

“Coraline? _Where are you going!?”_ She heard the Beldam say, a sudden panic in her voice.

She finally turned to look at her pursuer, feeling like she was snapped out of a daydream. The Beldam was rushing forward, her mouth curved downward in a deep frown. Coraline backed up instinctively, confused. Wasn’t this what she wanted? Unless…

The doorway she just stepped through was something else.

She was already standing several feet inside the corridor before noticing, then the door began to creak shut again. Not quick enough, though, as the Beldam reached it and began to wrench it back open to follow. She took that as her cue to finally start running.

The black rug muffled her steps as she tore down the hallway that seemed to be endlessly curving to the left. She couldn’t see her pursuer, but the echoes indicated that she wasn’t far behind. Coraline didn’t have much time for critical observation, but as she ran, she did notice the shape displayed on the framed paintings hanging on the wall. The thin form could almost be passable as human if it weren’t for the hands. It all so oddly resembled aspects of the Other Mother, but it felt different in a way Coraline couldn’t quite name. It was something about how watching the paintings too long made a headache develop, and nearly caused her to trip herself in disorientation.

She took the first right turn that came up after several minutes of running, and began to notice the colour changes on the wall and carpet as she kept running. That had to be a good sign, right? Stumbling into this hallway had given her new motivation to try and escape. If the Other Mother was so frantically trying to catch her now, it meant that it was actually possible to successfully run away. That, or fall into the arms of something else, which Coraline was having the suspicion might be happening.

Two turns later, Coraline confirmed that worry. Her narrow hallway suddenly ended with just a mirror facing her. It nearly made her trip again as she skidded to a halt to try and address her next move, breathing heavy after all the running. She couldn’t hear her pursuer anymore, but then again it was hard to listen when the buzz of the lamps on the wall seemed to be intensifying. She groaned in annoyance, shaking her head as she paced about to try and find some solution in the impossible mess before her.

She jolted when she glanced back at the mirror to see someone else behind her, and spun to face them. She was clearly not human, but she was also definitely no Beldam. Her warped and distorted features didn’t give the sense of an imposter masquerading as someone else. It instead just seemed to inspire confusion and distraction as Coraline struggled to focus on the figure as she walked forward, cornering her in the dead-end hallway.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” The creature said, crossing her arms and grinning. Her English accent was inquisitive and chipper, with a hint of condescension. “A straggler walking between, and with some awful Stranger in pursuit. A curious case, even in these times.”

“What are you?” Coraline demanded. When her only reply was a chuckle that seemed to echo painfully in her head, she tried a different question. “Did I lose her?”

The other shrugged casually. “She’s about as lost as you are. Even with the tie she has to you, it doesn’t do much good within my boundaries.” She explained, then her smile seemed to fade somewhat. “She might prove an irritant if I do away with you, though. Not exactly easily digestible, her kind.”

Coraline took two steps back before feeling the mirror behind her, then raised her knife up towards the other. “I don’t plan on making it easy for you, either.” She growled back. The creature seemed unimpressed.

She just smirked at her, then gestured vaguely to the air with one large hand. “You already made it easy for me, darling. You walked right up to my door and stepped in, all of your own volition. I didn’t even intend to lure you.” She chuckled.

“So, sue me for not understanding anything that’s happening.” Coraline said, feeling herself break into a cold sweat. Despite the pit in her stomach, she lunged forward suddenly, aiming to stab at the torso of the creature in front of her. Without actually seeing her move, her opponent was suddenly much further away, leaving Coraline nearly toppling over before catching her balance. As she straightened out, she found five razor-sharp fingertips held at eye level in front of her, poised as if in warning. Coraline jumped back in surprise, flattening herself against the mirror this time.

“Thought you’d be a little more interesting, or at least knowledgeable.” The creature said, sounding disappointed. Coraline glared up at her. “You must realize it’s odd that you’ve seen nobody else travelling freely between domains.”

Coraline looked down at the ground, feeling dizzy after looking at the other’s face too long. She thought carefully on what she was saying, but she hardly felt free during her time since she left the house, with the Beldam stalking her most of the way. She had no idea what she meant by ‘domains,’ but there was the giant imposing structure outside that was impossible to ignore. “I don’t know, I was just trying to get to that tower! I haven’t bothered to think too hard about the rest.” She snapped.

The other paused, seemingly in thought. “Really?” She said, intrigued suddenly. “And what’s there for you at the tower?”

“It… just reminds me of someone I met, once. I thought I could find answers if I went there.” She answered, hesitantly. She doubted that there was anything good for her at that place, but she saw no better alternative to making her way there.

Something in her answer seemed to delight the creature who had started to laugh again, making Coraline’s head swim. As if it was always there before, a door stood next to the creature who was now standing halfway through it. “I stand corrected! You are an interesting one. I’ll have to see how this plays out.” She said, disappearing.

Coraline bolted forward to reach for the door, but as she met the wall, it was gone again. She slammed a fist against it in frustration. “What the hell does that mean!?” She yelled out to the air before withdrawing, realizing she was definitely alone again. With no other option, she turned to walk back down the hall from where she came.

Seeing the exact same hallways repeated with only minor variances in colour or decoration got old quick, and made time even harder to keep track of. She tried to follow the hallway’s curve to the left as long as she could, but it seemed like there was no actual end to the spiralling passage. Eventually, she decided to start alternating on which passage to take.It couldn’t make her any _less_ lost, by this point.

It was on the third right turn that she found another dead-end; and waiting there was the Other Mother.

She was looking in the mirror at the wall, wearing a scowl that had stretched further than should be possible. Her body had gotten longer and more skeletal, as if she had stopped bothering with her more human-looking façade. Her needle-thin fingers were scratching at the wallpaper.

Seeing her again after spending so long in empty hallways was surprising enough to make Coraline audibly gasp, which was all the Beldam needed to hear. Her button eyes glinted as she looked at her through the mirror, then turned around with a growl. Coraline wasted no more time, spinning around and sprinting away in terror as the Beldam resumed her pursuit. _”Get back here, you brat!”_ She screeched, tearing down the hallway behind her. It wouldn’t be so easy to lose her again, not when she was this close and running so fast. Whatever earlier thoughts of giving in that Coraline had were gone, along with the Other Mother’s patience.

Just as she expected to come across a split in the path, instead she was greeted with a door. Realistically, she didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she still found herself crying out in relief as she reached it, turning the handle and bolting through.

And, directly falling into dirt. She rolled onto her back in a daze as she struggled to figure out what direction was up, then peered toward the open doorway hovering above her at an angle where it unceremoniously dumped her out. Unfortunately, it looked like she wasn’t the only one leaving. The Other Mother dove out of the hall, barely giving Coraline time to shriek before her twisted body crashed heavily on top of her, one slender hand wringing her neck.

 _”You’re not leaving me again, you…”_ She started to hiss before looking up at something, distracted. Coraline couldn’t see it from where she was pinned, but there was something else here. Even in the moment of pure Beldam-fueled terror, she could feel that awful prickle on her neck, like someone was watching. And it was _strong._ As she registered that thought, the Other Mother began to scream, then seemed to disintegrate where she stood. Coraline stayed awake just long enough to see two shadows above her before she blacked out.

\--

She came to as soon as she felt hands on her, presumably from someone trying to move her. She flailed and yelped in surprise, crawling backward in the dirt as they let go. In an instant, her heart was hammering in her chest again. “Get back!” She barked. Her vision was clouded with black spots from getting up too fast, her terror seemed to keep her from passing out again immediately.

“You’re fine, Coraline, she’s gone! You’re okay, drop the knife.” Someone said. She was all too aware of how she could hear their footsteps coming toward her, too fast to be comfortable. They knew her name. This must be a trick.

“I said, stay back!” She shouted again, doing the opposite and holding the knife toward where she heard them.

“Coraline, _what do you see?”_ The voice said, clear and sharp.

She tried to fight it for half a second, before it became clear that it wouldn’t work. Her breath felt like it was forcefully slowing so she could get enough air to see clearly, and answer their command. “I—I see you, and someone else… wait—” She stammered, then widened her eyes in realization. “Jon?!”

She lowered her arm and dropped the knife next to her as she just stared at him. He looked different from the time they met so long ago, but she recognized him well enough after seeing him in her dreams so often. His dark, grey-streaked hair was back in a ponytail, and his eyes were unnaturally bright. The cane in his unburnt left hand was the same one as before, albeit more battered-looking than before. He looked just as shocked as she felt to see him in front of her. The man standing a few feet behind him looked at her with a mix of caution and confusion. The two of them had backpacks on, and judging by their mud-caked shoes and pants, they must have been wandering for a while, like she was.

“Long time, no see.” Jon said, after a beat. It was clear he was at a loss for words.

“I dunno, has it been?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she drew her knees up.

He tensed up at that, looking down at the ground. “Oh—o-of course. I’m so sorry, if I knew about the dreams back then I would have never taken your statement.” He said quickly, tumbling over his own words.

“It’s fine, not much we can do about that, now. I _did_ tell you willingly.” She said. It didn’t seem to alleviate any of the guilt on Jon’s face. “What happened to her? The Other Mother?”

“Jon got his _murder_ on, as Martin put it so eloquently before!” Chimed a voice, and suddenly Coraline realized that the door was still hanging in the air. The broad hand of that other monster gripped the frame as she pulled herself through and stepped to the ground. Panic flashed across her face as she reached for her knife again. “Told you I had a surprise for you, Jon.” She said, giggling.

“What the hell have you been doing, Helen?” Jon turned, growling at her. She seemed to ignore his irritated tone. “What was she doing in your hallways?”

“Oh please, Archivist. I’ve just been doing what I always do. She walked in all by herself.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder casually. He shrugged her off, still glaring. The creature—Helen, as Jon called her—glanced over to Coraline with a sly grin, then back to Jon. “You’re far too popular for me to know every single one of your friends, I can’t exactly _ask_ every single victim if they know you before eating them. She’s lucky that she mentioned you.”

Jon just grumbled at that, stepping away from her. Coraline, more confused than ever, looked between the two of them. “I’m sorry—Jon, are you friends with her?”

Helen laughed at that, while Jon walked toward Coraline, offering a hand to help her up. She took it hesitantly. “Not _friends,_ exactly. It’s complicated, she comes and goes as she pleases. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She looked over to Helen in the background, who seemed to be faking a pout. “I think I’m okay. It’s just been a really rough… whatever this all is.” She answered.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but,” The other man spoke up, walking up to stand beside Jon. He was bigger than Jon, and slightly taller, with a mop of black hair and glasses. “I’m sort of out the loop, here. Who is this, Jon?”

“I’m also curious.” Helen added.

“Oh, of course. Martin, this is Coraline. Coraline, Martin. He worked with me at the Institute, and he’s my… boyfriend.” Jon said, voice going quieter at the end. She saw a little smile appear on Martin’s face. “I met Coraline when I went to America. She saved me from Max Musterman while I was in Pittsburgh, then helped me get a head-start out of town before I ran into Julia and Robert.”

Martin and Coraline exchanged an awkward nod and wave to each other, then Jon motioned his head toward Helen standing a little behind him. “Helen is… The Distortion. Don’t trust anything she says, and maybe don’t step through her door again.” He explained in a sour tone.

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Helen said, waving her hand dismissively. That, unsurprisingly, didn’t make her any less worried.

“Thanks for not… eating me, I guess, but did you really have to wait for the Other Mother to chase me down before letting me go?” She asked, frowning at her.

She shrugged. “Well, she wasn’t going to chase _me,_ now was she? I wanted her out, too.” She said, turning away to walk back to her door, still wearing that smirk. “Anyways, I’ll be off. You’re welcome, Jon, Coraline. Be seeing you.”

“Bye.” Martin said in a small voice, as the three of them watched her retreat into the hallway and shut the door slowly with a high-pitched creak. When Coraline blinked, the door was gone altogether.

“So. The Other Mother. She’s gone?” Coraline asked again, looking back to Jon.

“I—yes. She’s dead.” He said back, his expression grim. “I destroyed her.”

“Don’t you mean ‘smote’?” Martin said quietly, with something of a smile in his voice. Jon shrugged to the comment.

She breathed out a shaky sigh of relief that she didn’t realize she was holding in. Knowing that it was finally done was overwhelming. “Thank you.” She said. Jon nodded silently to her.

“’Other Mother.’ That thing didn’t look very motherly.” Martin said. “What was she? Web?”

Coraline opened her mouth, but paused when she realized she wasn’t sure what he meant. She looked to Jon again, who spoke up again to clarify. “Manipulation was part of her game, but her alignment was with the Stranger—posing as an idealistic version of a mother to lure in children, and consuming their lives until they’ve forgotten who they are, then discarding them to move on to the next.”

“Wow. That’s… horrible.” Martin replied.

She shuddered, thinking about the remnants of the other children she found at the Pink Palace. “You sound like you know a lot more about this stuff than the first time we met.” She noted.

“Yes—not long after I met you, was when the bigger picture came together.” Jon said.

“Well—” She said, kicking the dirt gently. “I kind of regret not making a trip to London. If I knew all this was gonna happen for sure, I wouldn’t have tried to stay out of it. I just feel clueless, now.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jon said. Martin reached a gentle hand out to his forearm.

“It’s not your fault. This was that ritual you were trying to stop, right?” She asked. When Jon didn’t say anything right away, she looked at his face; he looked like he was going to be sick.

“I- I’m afraid a lot has happened since then. This is much bigger than the Unknowing.” He finally said, voice faint. “I should explain everything.”

“Jon,” Martin said, concerned. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for this.”

“I know—but I was involved, and she deserves to know what’s happening.” He explained to him. “And we’re far enough from the Buried now; we should take a break, anyway.”

After a moment of consideration, Martin nodded to him and started to take off his backpack. Coraline followed suit, and sat down on the ground as they did. She found her hands shaking again, anticipating whatever Jon was going to tell her.

\--

He explained it all. The multiple entities of fear, the events of the Unknowing, Jonah Magnus, Jon’s own unwilling involvement of the end of the world, and the new ways of the world they existed in. Near the end, he said it all as if confessing to the crime. Coraline only listened, frozen to the spot as he spoke.

When he finished, she took a moment to try and conjure anything to say. “I… wow. That’s a lot.” She thought back to the other things she’d seen when she left the house. People trapped in never-ending nightmares of varying kinds. “Wasn’t expecting all the supernatural stuff to get this existentially horrifying.”

“Things aren’t good, but we’re going to try whatever we can to reverse it.” Martin said, before looking over to the tower in the distance—the Panopticon, as Jon referred to it. Coraline noticed it was definitely closer now than before she went through Helen’s door. She wagered that those hallways didn’t follow normal rules of space, but opted not to think too hard about how she was halfway across the world after just a few hours of running aimlessly. “We know that Elias—er, Jonah—is in there. Jon has enough power to destroy monsters now, so, probably him as well.”

“Let’s hope it works.” She said, shivering. “It was awful—I was trapped in my room when it started, I could hear my mom’s voice but I was too scared to open my door. Leaving didn’t do much good, obviously, but I can’t imagine being stuck there forever.”

Martin paused, glancing over to Jon, then back to her, looking puzzled. “Wait. You just... got up and left?” He asked.

“Yeah..? I just climbed out the window and started walking toward the tower. I found the door later on when the Other Mother was following me.” She answered back. “Is that weird?”

“We haven’t met a single bystander that wasn’t trapped. They never even seem to notice us when we pass through the nightmares.” Martin said, then looked to Jon again. “Why was _she_ able to leave?”

Jon’s eyes grew brighter as he looked down in thought. “The Other Mother had her own domain to contain her sole remaining victims—the Jones family, mainly Coraline who was her target.” He stated, turning his gaze back up to her. His expression was intense. “But you aren’t just marked by the Stranger anymore. When you gave your statement, you fell under the Watcher’s gaze as well. I think that second connection—and to the ruling power at that– called to your awareness enough to let you walk away from the Stranger. But of course, the Other Mother was able to follow you out.”

“I… guess that makes sense? As much as anything can make sense around here.” She said, laughing nervously.

“Yeah. It’s a learning curve.” Martin agreed. “We were all finally figuring out how these things worked before the whole world changed on us.” 

“So, wait; that Eye tower was calling to me, then? Was I just walking toward a different kind of nightmare?” Coraline asked, going rigid at the thought.

“Probably.” Jon admitted.

“Wow. So, I was getting nowhere.” She muttered. “Great.”

“I’m sorry. There’s no safety in this place, not anymore.” Jon said, voice solemn. Everyone stayed silent for a moment, before Jon looked to have made his mind up on something. “You could come with us, if you want. It’ll be more dangerous, but I might be able to keep you from being trapped.” He offered, hesitantly.

Martin looked to Jon with a surprised expression, uncertain for a moment before shrugging. He and Jon looked to Coraline for her answer.

The offer had shocked her, but thinking about her answer wasn’t hard. “Trying not to get involved obviously didn’t work out for me. I don’t know what I can do to help, but I’ll try if it means getting things back to normal.” She said, and the other two nodded in approval. Her thoughts went back to the crying voice from outside her bedroom. “You can really keep me from getting trapped again?” She asked Jon.

He nodded, looking sure of himself. “Yes.” He said, “You saved me back then; at least now, I can return the favor.”

It was a big proposal, just when Coraline didn’t think that anything could surprise her more. Trying to save the world was a much bigger goal than just surviving, but how could she turn it down? She needed a clear objective, even one as terrifying as that. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come along.” She said, finally.

Maybe she could still save her parents again, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm not sure if I'll be adding any other parts to this, although I kind of said the same after the first chapter as well.
> 
> Heavily contemplating other Coraline/TMA concepts though, so those might pop up here at some point!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm mylemonginger on tumblr if you're interested at all. I post a lot of bullshit, mainly TMA stuff.


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